


Fleeting

by Syndal



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syndal/pseuds/Syndal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delvin knows it'll only last for a little while. Might as well enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleeting

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the kink meme, so here's the prompt:
> 
> "Delvin and the DB have rough but affectionate sex.
> 
> BONUS if this isn't the first time and they're in a relationship that the Guild are beginning to find out about.
> 
> Also, age kinks are wonderful so maybe the DB could be a young woman (early twenties)...?"

Even before the door slams shut, Veyl's pushing her top up over her head.

Not that Delvin is complaining, mind: it'd been two months since he last saw the slippery little Breton, gone off on another one of her 'adventures', but Mara's mercy, sometimes a man wants to unwrap his own gift.

The old thief presses Veyl up against the wall of the Cistern, kneeling before her to lap at the curve of one exposed breast. When she reaches down to fumble with her belt buckle – all too eager to bare herself – Delvin slaps her hands away.

“Let me,” he rasps.

Veyl makes a low, frustrated sound and stamps her foot. “You take too long.”

He doesn't reply, too wrapped up in the taste of her sun-kissed skin, suckling on one taut nipple while he pinches and pulls the other. That makes her hiss, but whether from pain or pleasure Delvin doesn't know, nor does he much care.

“You haven't even kissed me yet,” Veyl pouts. Divines, he loves it when she pouts.

Delvin stops and looks up at her, taking in the scarred, youthful face for the first time since she came back. She ain't beautiful, but she's his.

“Well,” he rumbles, “come on then.”

Coal-black hair tumbles down like a curtain around his face as the girl bends to kiss him -- and kiss him she does: hard, thorough, nipping at his bottom lip, begging for him to let her tongue slip through.

“Please,” Veyl pulls away to whisper.

Delvin has never been one to play hard to get; better to have a good, quick fuck and be done with it, he always thought. But Veyl is young (again, Delvin can't complain – especially when her tight little cunt is working its magic,) and she still thinks she can play games with him, leaving for weeks on end without so much as a word, only to slink back in the dead of night with a bauble and a smile, as if it makes up for the worry and ache.

 _“Worry an' ache,”_ Delvin all but grumbles against her belly. He wonders when he got so soft, when he started caring.

_It's just a good, quick fuck – get her out of his system, clear his head. But the way she breathes his name, the way she ripostes against him, the way she doesn't care that he's old enough to be her father, dried up and used like a seasoned leather tunic... the way she kisses him after he comes and the afterglow sets in..._

“Mallory?” Her voice brings him back home, making him realize that he's stopped touching her all together. He remedies that quick enough, running a callused hand up her thigh.

Veyl cups his jaw and guides him to look at her again, letting the pad of her thumb ghost against the stubble there. “Missed you,” she murmurs.

 _Missed you too,_ he wants to say. Instead, he undoes her belt buckle, slipping her breeches off with one hard tug. Considering how long he was originally planning to torture her like this, that one simple tug and tiny bit of release were practically an “I love you” in his book. And he does love her, gods help him...

Veyl hums with approval, stepping out of the pooling fabric. “'Bout time.”

She moves to step towards the bed and guide Delvin to his feet, but instead the girl finds herself pushed once more against he cold stone.

“Never said I was finished,” Delvin growls.

This time, he sets straight to work. He spreads her legs apart, pressing a wet kiss to each of her thighs before going in for the kill: Delvin's chapped lips find the small bud between her folds, kissing it once, twice, three times before he begins to lick. By now they'd lain together half a hundred times; he knows exactly what she wants, which means he gets to spend more time enjoying her reactions, rather than worry if _this_ is good or if _that_ is better.

Mara, but he loves the taste of her cunt. It's not the best he's ever tasted – that particular honor belongs to the lass up in Morthal he'd had a romp with years back – but it's warm and sweet in all the ways he likes. Now Veyl's got her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as she grinds her wetness against his mouth in a way that makes his cock twitch. She tries to stifle a moan, biting into her lip so hard Delvin's amazed she doesn't draw blood; he doesn't know why she bothers. The whole damn Cistern knows they're fucking. Ah, well. Keeping up appearances and all that.

When he finally slips two long fingers into her, Veyl's body goes rigid, and she begins to murmur, whimper, _beg_ , anything she can think of to get him to grant the fraction of release the old thief had been working her towards. None of this works, so she switches to threatening and Delvin smiles against her skin, because he knows he's winning.

“If you don't get to the fucking _point_ – “ she begins to hiss, but he's already there, fingers stroking that one spot that makes her back bow, tongue swirling around her clit in the way he knows she loves, and suddenly Veyl is tumbling over the precipice of release so fast and so hard she can't stop herself from crying out.

Delvin holds her steady until she stops shaking, mouth still pressed against her cunt.

“Good?” He finally asks as he moves to stand, old bones creaking in protest. The self-satisfied smirk that he flashes says that he already knows. Delvin's always been good.

They're face to face now, and the look she gives him makes his smirk fade; something akin to guilt lingers there, behind her dark brown eyes. For a moment there's silence between them, Delvin with a lack of things to say, and Veyl with far too much. She's sorting through it all, he knows, with the same look she wears when she's casing a building. Calculating.

“I'm sorry, you know,” Veyl says with a frown, “for being gone so long. I had... things that needed doing.”

 _Things, or people?_ Delvin wonders. “No harm,” he mumbles lowly, “no harm.”

He hesitates when Veyl wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him close, pressing her forehead against his. But he can't resist her, never could, so he grips her waist lets her get as close as she wants.

“I'll be here for a while now, promise,” Veyl whispers, her eyes closed.

But Delvin has been around the block more than once and he's learned not to trust a promise, not even if it spills from pretty lips. Especially then.

They stay that way for a while, until he notices, with a small amount of guilt, her skin begin to pebble from the cold. Delvin kisses her forehead and takes her hand, leading her over to the small bed tucked away in the corner of the room. Carefully he lays her down on her back, chuckling when she sits back up and reaches for his belt.

“Still ain't had enough, eh?” He teases.

Veyl grins up at him, sliding his pants down just enough to grab hold of his cock. “Never.”

He likes that about her.

A moment later and he's in her mouth, trying hard to focus on undoing the clasps of his jacket. He almost has it off, too, until she hilts his cock down her throat. Delvin can't quite stop the groan that escapes his lips; he'd always wondered where she learned this little trick of the trade. Then again, thinking on it too hard led to unpleasant things, and he wants this to be as pleasant as possible, so he stops what he's doing to grab a fistful of her hair, guiding her to do as he wants.

For a while the only sounds in the room are his heavy breathing, her slurping, and the occasional faint, echoing laugh from the Cistern. She stops at his bidding, just as he's ready to come, (as much as he misses the sight of her mouth filled with his seed.)

“Get'on your side,” he orders, voice husky.

Veyl obeys, rolling away from him, throwing the dirty pillow to the floor to make room for them both. He joins her once he's stripped bare, tossing his armor and weapons. Delvin pulls her back against his chest, buries his face in her dark hair even as he reaches to pull her thigh over his own.

With one full thrust he's inside her, reveling in her warmth and wetness. “You're tighter than I remember,” he groans into her shoulder. Veyl chuckles in response, and Mara that only makes it worse. On the other hand, there was some measure of relief. Probably meant she wasn't fucking anyone else on the road.

He begins to move – shallow, at first, teasing, but all of her impatience has fled; she moves with him, enjoying even this slow torture. Delvin snakes his arm around Veyl's waist, up to knead and cup her breast. And then he finds a spot, a rhythm that makes her whimper, and all bets are off. He pushes her down with a grunt, thrusts hard and fast as she begs for more in a small, broken voice that spurs him on.

He's older now, not able to hold it as long as he used to, and it's been too long since he had her last. When she twists back to kiss him fully and deeply, it's all he can do to let go. Delvin comes hard, clutching her against him, moaning her name in a way that sounds far more like a prayer than he means it to.

Their breath comes in heavy, ragged gasps, their skin slick with sweat, and they stay as such until Veyl lets his slackening cock slip from her, moving onto her back. She peers up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Delvin can't help but admire the way the candlelight dances across her face.

“Hold me?” she asks quietly.

Truth be told, he expected her to leave. No harm done, it was just her way. They had their fun and went back to business.

“Aye,” Delvin replies. He lays back, allowing her to rest her head on his chest before wrapping his arms around her. There's a lot he wants to say, and even more he knows he shouldn't. She was too young to be tied to him, too young to throw her life away on an old man who ain't what he used to be. If the way she and Bryn have been looking at each other lately was any indication, she's already begun smartening up. That thought leaves a dull ache in his chest, but he pushes it away.

She isn't beautiful, but for now she is his.


End file.
